“Tell her I had to hunt for it.”
“I won’t lie for you or anybody else.”
“I wouldn’t have you. It’s the absolute truth.” The speaker strode over to where his suit-case lay open on the floor.
Rummaging through its contents, he fished out a white silk negligée shirt and quickly tore it down the back.
Betsy sprang forward and cried out, but the deed was done. He pressed the garment into her arms and opened the door.
“That was sinful!” she exclaimed, regarding the rent.
“Not half so bad as hurting your immortal soul?” He laughed at her long face and pushed her gently out the door. “Remember now,” threateningly, “if you don’t do something, I will. I’m trusting you, Betsy.”
“That’s wicked. That’s just wicked,” said Miss Foster to herself, holding up to view the fine garment as she moved down the deserted hall.